My Straight Girlfriend with Skin Hunger Syndrome - Chapter 34
Chapter 34
Ying Yuan remained silent, but Yi Shanshan’s answer was crystal clear.
A moment later, someone chimed in, “Oh yeah, Shanshan checked our dorm and kept praising Ying Yuan’s bunk for being so tidy.”
“That’s right,” Yi Shanshan said. “It left quite an impression on me.”
In the darkness, all three pairs of eyes focused intently on Ying Yuan, willing her to say the words.
Ying Yuan secretly pinched the palm of her hand to keep herself grounded.
“Let’s tidy up first,” she said. “Leaving liquids on the table is dangerous.”
It was a perfect distraction. As soon as she finished speaking, Ying Yuan switched on the desk lamp and began tidying up. Mao Mao and Xiaohan immediately followed suit, eager to avoid the embarrassment of their dorm looking messy in front of a guest.
“Shanshan, stay out of this—you don’t know where things go,” Mao Mao called out, shoving Yi Shanshan aside.
Ying Yuan breathed a sigh of relief. As she tidied up, she mentally strategized how to resolve the evening’s lingering tension.
Working together, the trio quickly cleared the table, making it neat and tidy.
Ying Yuan had finally found a reasonable path forward. Like a tightrope walker, she swayed precariously but could only keep moving forward.
“Shanshan, it’s your choice. Where do you want to sleep?” Ying Yuan asked, taking the initiative.
Without hesitation, Yi Shanshan blurted out, her voice brimming with excitement, “I want to sleep with you, Ying Yuan! You seem like the kind of person who sleeps peacefully without tossing and turning.”
Mao Mao chimed in, “You know what? Ying Yuan really is the only one in our dorm who doesn’t move around in her sleep. I tend to hug my blanket, and Xiaohan flails her arms around in her dreams.”
Xiaohan added, “Yeah, Ying Yuan’s super quiet.”
Yi Shanshan beamed, “I love quiet people~”
You mean you love using quiet people as your bed, Ying Yuan thought to herself.
Turning to open the wardrobe, she said, “Then you can sleep here with me.”
“Thank you!” Yi Shanshan shouted enthusiastically, pressing close to Ying Yuan. “Ying Yuan-tongxue, you’re the best! Do you have any sleeping habits I should know about? Is there anything I can do for you?”
Ying Yuan could practically see the sparks of excitement dancing in Yi Shanshan’s eyes.
“Do you want to wash up?” Ying Yuan asked. “Showering’s out of the question now.”
Yi Shanshan nodded vigorously. “I’ll go wash my face, brush my teeth, and wash my feet.”
“Okay.” Ying Yuan handed her something. “Your pajamas.”
Pajamas.
Yi Shanshan lowered her head, squinting in the dim light to make out the pajamas.
It was the same beige set Ying Yuan had worn that night at the hotel—the one that looked so sleek and effortless on her long-limbed figure.
A surge of triumphant joy welled up in Yi Shanshan’s heart. So what if she suddenly wanted to leave me for some inexplicable reason?
Just three days, and I’ve already brought our relationship back to where it was before.
“Thank you~” Yi Shanshan accepted the pajamas with a radiant smile. “I love these!”
The four of them lined up to wash up. Yi Shanshan said she’d take longer, so she went last.
While Yi Shanshan was washing up, Ying Yuan pulled a summer air-conditioning quilt from the closet and spread it on the empty bed.
Mao Mao and Xiaohan exchanged surprised glances, but Ying Yuan raised a hand to silence them.
She continued her work, managing to cobble together a barely serviceable bed before Yi Shanshan emerged from the bathroom.
Yi Shanshan emerged from the bathroom with a smile, but it vanished when she tilted her pale face upward and saw the empty bed piled high with belongings.
“What’s going on?” she asked Ying Yuan, who was standing nearby.
Ying Yuan had rehearsed this explanation countless times in her mind, so it flowed smoothly from her lips: “The dorm’s single beds are still too narrow. Two people could never sleep comfortably on one, no matter how they tried. Besides, the bed wasn’t designed to support the weight of two people, which could be a safety hazard.”
Yi Shanshan narrowed her eyes, incredulous. “So…?”
“So,” Ying Yuan replied, “you take my bed, and I’ll sleep in the empty one.”
Yi Shanshan: “……”
Ignoring her expression, Ying Yuan stepped onto the ladder of the empty bed and began explaining: “I have a thin summer blanket—it’s lightweight, but when folded, it works well as a mattress pad. As for warmth, I’ll sleep fully clothed, and I’ve brought out my extra-long winter down coat. It’s practically a down comforter—super warm. Just roll up a thick sweater for a pillow, and this bed will be perfect.”
Yi Shanshan opened her mouth to protest: “But you…”
Ying Yuan cut her off. “I sleep well anywhere, I’m not picky. You’re our guest, you deserve the more comfortable bed. I just changed my sheets and duvet cover yesterday—I hope you don’t mind.”
Yi Shanshan was speechless, glaring daggers at Ying Yuan, who had already climbed into her “doghouse” bunk, her eyes downcast.
“Get some rest, good night,” Ying Yuan said stiffly, lying flat on her back and pulling the hood of her down jacket over her face.
Mao Mao, completely oblivious to the tense atmosphere, clapped enthusiastically. “Aiya, our Yuan always has the best ideas! Such a domestic goddess!”
She turned to Yi Shanshan. “Shanshan, hurry up and get some sleep! I guarantee Yuan’s bed is the cleanest—she soaks the sheets first, scrubs them by hand, and then puts them in the washing machine… old-fashioned but effective!”
Yi Shanshan took a deep breath, then another, fiercely suppressing the anger bubbling in her chest.
She stomped over to Ying Yuan’s bunk, clambered up the ladder with heavy steps, and threw herself onto the bed with a thud.
The familiar scent, the one she always longed for and missed so dearly, enveloped her.
It was an utterly clean and refreshing scent, like the first gust of wind that sweeps through late summer and early autumn. That wind, tinged with the green of lingering summer and the golden hue of approaching autumn, edges scorched by the sun’s gentle warmth, a perfect balance of warmth and softness.
This scent was most intoxicating when it emanated from Ying Yuan herself.
When Yi Shanshan held Ying Yuan, she felt utterly at ease—content, relaxed, like she’d just finished a satisfying meal and a long, restful sleep, drowsy and content.
Even without Ying Yuan, merely her lingering presence could still offer solace.
The fire in Yi Shanshan’s heart gradually subsided, sinking into an unfathomable abyss.
On Ying Yuan’s bed, she fell asleep almost immediately.
The dormitory sank into complete silence. As the rhythmic rise and fall of breathing filled the air, Ying Yuan surreptitiously tugged her down jacket’s hood further down.
She gasped for breath, her heart pounding like a drum in the darkness, still shaken by the tension of narrowly escaping a life-threatening situation.
At dawn, as the first rays of sunlight streamed into the dormitory, Ying Yuan tiptoed out of bed.
Having always been an early riser, she had mastered the art of getting ready quietly without disturbing her roommates’ sleep.
The curtains were drawn around her bed, but one of Yi Shanshan’s feet peeked out, resting on the guardrail. It was delicate and porcelain-like, utterly charming.
Ying Yuan couldn’t avoid it fast enough, not daring to even glance at it.
She’s won again.
Ying Yuan quietly opened the dorm room door, shouldered her backpack, and slipped out, closing it gently behind her.
She hurried down the corridor with swift, silent steps. When she reached the stairs, she broke into a run.
Flying down the stairs, flying through breakfast, she darted into the secluded grove behind the garden to begin memorizing her notes.
Clutching her phone in her pocket, Ying Yuan reasoned that as long as she didn’t share her location with anyone, she was safe for now.
Her class schedule, however, was undoubtedly compromised. She had no doubt Yi Shanshan would track her down in class if necessary.
No escape was possible; she could only prepare to face the challenge head-on.
Putting down her notes, Ying Yuan pulled out her phone and began searching.
Within half a minute, she had located Yi Shanshan’s class schedule and compared it to her own.
Any classes that overlapped in time were likely safe. If they were core courses in Yi Shanshan’s major, the safety probability increased dramatically. But if they were just peripheral electives, the danger level would skyrocket.
Of course, the most dangerous places were the cafeteria, library, and dorm—public but fixed locations.
Ying Yuan had to change her routines, such as eating at a farther cafeteria or studying in different study rooms.
At the same time, she tried her best to keep her whereabouts secret from her roommates, friends, and classmates.
Once she became aware of anti-surveillance tactics, Ying Yuan quickly realized how easily Yi Shanshan had been catching her.
With just a little effort, Yi Shanshan could engineer countless “chance” encounters.
What Ying Yuan needed to do now was minimize these scenarios. If an encounter was unavoidable, she would etch the words “just friends” into her bones, refusing to step even half a step over that boundary.
Ying Yuan clenched her fist in her heart, cheering herself on. She truly loved mornings; mornings made her feel that everything was hopeful, that everything could be overcome and resolved.
Browsing the school forum, Ying Yuan noticed a project recruitment post in the new Innovation and Entrepreneurship Competition section.
What caught her eye was the founder’s strict rule of recruiting only female members, which had sparked a heated debate and pushed the post to the top of the forum.
Ying Yuan carefully scanned the post, her interest now fully piqued by the project itself.
It was a narrative puzzle game project spearheaded by a senior female student in her third year. Set in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, the protagonist group consisted of three girls with distinct personalities. United by friendship and dreams, they braved countless dangers, fought side-by-side, and explored the struggles and secrets hidden within the vast cosmos.
Currently, the project’s requirements list was missing a programmer proficient in C++.
Ying Yuan’s fingers twitched with eagerness.
First, she was genuinely intrigued. The programming assignments from her teacher this year had left her wanting more; she craved an opportunity to learn through practical application.
Second, game design lay completely outside the interests of The Trio and Yi Shanshan. By joining a new group and increasing her workload, she could further minimize her contact with Yi Shanshan.
With this thought, Ying Yuan hesitated no longer. She copied the contact email from the post and began drafting her resume.
The wind rustled through the grove, and morning light filtered through the gaps in the trees, casting streaks of sunlight across Ying Yuan’s phone screen.
Ying Yuan was quick about such tasks. In just five minutes, she had drafted and sent the email.
After slipping her phone back into her pocket, she waited for a reply, anticipating it might arrive sometime in the coming days.
But just as she picked up her book and hadn’t even turned the first page, a ding sounded—her email’s special notification tone.
The reply had come even faster than she had sent her email.
Shocked, Ying Yuan unlocked her phone and found a single sentence in the reply:
What’s your phone number?
Clutching the book, she quickly sent her number.
Almost the instant the “Sent” notification appeared, her phone rang.
“Holy crap, that was fast!” Ying Yuan exclaimed.
She answered the call. The woman on the other end spoke with the same concise efficiency that characterized her own actions: “Ying Yuan, this is Qi Hongyue. I just reviewed your resume, and it aligns well with our needs. Are you available for an interview right now?”
“Now?” Ying Yuan asked, startled.
It was only 6:30 a.m.
“Yes, right now,” Qi Hongyue replied. “You’re awake, aren’t you?”
In short, if you’re awake, you can interview. As long as you’re conscious, work can proceed.
Ying Yuan took a deep breath, her respect for the senior who had initiated this interview deepening. “Okay, I’m available.”
“Location?” Qi Hongyue asked.
“I’m currently in the woods behind the Garden on North Campus. The nearest convenient spot would be…”
Qi Hongyue cut her off. “Not far. I’ll be there soon.”
“Ah… okay.”
The call ended after 23 seconds.
Ying Yuan couldn’t help but give Qi Hongyue a mental thumbs-up.
Since Qi Hongyue told me to wait, I’d better stay put.
She stuffed her book back into her bag and mentally rehearsed potential interview questions.
About five minutes later, she spotted a girl hurrying toward her.
Dressed in the simplest sportswear, with shoulder-length short hair and glasses perched on her nose, the girl was tall, with broad shoulders and long legs.
She approached Ying Yuan with clear purpose. Ying Yuan took two steps forward to meet her, and the girl extended her hand. “Hello.”
Ying Yuan quickly shook her hand. “Hello, Senior Qi.”
The girl gave a slight nod and then leaned in, her gaze fixed intently on Ying Yuan.
It was a gaze like a machine scanning its target, devoid of any discernible emotion, and thus not at all offensive.
Ying Yuan straightened her back, ready to answer the questions.
However, Qi Hongyue’s first question left her stunned, frozen in place for what felt like an eternity.
“You’re gay, right?” The machine-like voice, flat and devoid of inflection, labeled Ying Yuan with the casual tone of stating a fact. “Do you have a girlfriend right now?”